“Then why?”
Caleb reached into his coat.
He pulled out a folder.
Henry looked at it.
“What is that?”
“Information.”
Henry opened it.
Inside were property records.
Financial statements.
Market analyses.
Tax documents.
Henry's stomach tightened.
“What are you doing?”
Caleb pointed toward the bakery.
“How long have you been behind on the building?”
Henry stared at him.
“You've been asking questions.”
“I've been asking questions for six months.”
“Why?”
“Because the property was purchased by a holding company last year.”
Henry nodded slowly.
“My landlord.”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“The company that owns this building is controlled by a private equity group.”
Henry's face hardened.
“They're raising the rent.”
“More than that.”
Caleb slid another document across the table.
Henry read it.
His hands began to shake.
“They're selling the block.”
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
“A developer.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that doesn't keep bakeries.”
Henry closed the folder.
“So that's it.”
“No.”
“What do you mean?”
Caleb leaned forward.
“They're not just selling the building.”
He tapped the folder.
“They're trying to clear the entire block.”
Henry stared at him.
“Why?”
“Luxury apartments.”
Henry looked around the bakery.
The old photographs.
The shelves.
The bread racks.
The counter his father had built.
Twenty-six years earlier, Henry had told a hungry boy he wasn't responsible for keeping a grown-up store alive.
Now Henry was facing a different question.
How much was a promise worth when the entire neighborhood was being priced out?
The Offer
Caleb's proposal was simple.
Too simple.
He wanted to buy the building.
Henry refused.
“No.”
Caleb blinked.
“You didn't even ask the price.”
“I don't need to.”
“Why?”
“Because I can't take your money.”
“It's not charity.”
“It feels like charity.”
“It's an investment.”
“In what?”
Caleb looked around.
“This.”
Henry laughed bitterly.
“This place makes almost no money.”
“That's why I'm not investing in the bakery as it exists.”